


we should just kiss (like real people do)

by nightswatch



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, The Great Kit Purrson Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: In which Kent Parson has a cat who keeps secrets from him, and a crush on a teammate that isn't much of a secret anymore.





	we should just kiss (like real people do)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LydiaStJames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaStJames/gifts).



> I'm sorry you had to wait for your fic for so long and I really hope you like this! Much love from your pinch hitter :)
> 
> Here's the original prompt: "I am pretty open to any Parson-related work! It can have a romance (Parse/Swoops or Parse/Tater or Parse/OC) or simply be one that explores his life/background. And as a cat person, I am always here for Kit Purrson."
> 
> The title is from a Hozier song.

Kit Purrson, the light of Kent Parson’s life, his ultimate bringer of joy, the softest undersized heating blanket anyone could wish for, is a perfectly normal cat. Kit likes glaring at people she doesn’t trust, she likes wiping glasses and bottles off the living room table with her tail, and she likes sleeping in spots of sunlight, no matter in what inconvenient places those spots of sunlight may be.

Kit Purrson also likes to wander.

Kent didn’t like it at first that Kit would stroll about his backyard and then disappear over a fence. He got used to it when he realized that she was always coming back. She made friends with the doctor’s kids down the street and they once tied a message for The Kitty’s Owner around Kit’s collar. Kent went to find them the next day and invited them to a game.

So he’s not too worried when he sees Kit climbing over the face again. He got her a new tag a while ago that has his address and phone number on it, just in case. She doesn’t go anywhere when it’s too hot outside, and Kent has told his cat sitter not to let Kit go anywhere when he’s on the road, but during hockey season, when the temperatures in Vegas are mostly bearable, Kit will often go and explore.

She usually isn’t gone for long.

So when she’s not back after a few hours on a late February evening, Kent is starting to get mildly anxious. The doctor and her kids moved away two years ago, so Kit’s definitely not busy having her head scratched by two very loving six-year-olds. Kent remains anxious for all of ten minutes, then Kit scratches at the backdoor, meowing at him when he lets her in, rubbing her head against his leg.

“Where did you go today, huh?” Kent mumbles and picks her up.

Kit purrs in reply, keeping her secrets.

*

“Someone is trying to stealth-steal my cat.”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jeff says. He grunts as he pulls off his skate. “Shit, I’m so fucking tired, I could sleep for a week. Two weeks. Help me…” He lifts up his other leg with the skate still on, using Kent as some sort of ten-million-dollar footrest.

“Swoops, I swear to God… Get your nasty-ass foot away from me,” Kent says and gives Jeff’s skate a poke with his pinky. “You’re disgusting. And I’m not taking off your skate.”

“To be honest, I think it’s your duty as our captain to help me take off that skate.”

“And it’s your duty as a friend to listen to my cat-napping issues, but are you listening? No. You’re attacking me with your gross, stinky foot.”

“My foot is awesome,” Jeff says, indignant, and finally pulls his leg off Kent’s knee again.

“That’s the worst comeback I’ve ever heard in my entire life, and I’ve heard all your other shitty comebacks, so–”

“Hey, stop being so cranky,” Jeff interrupts, giving him a nudge. He grins. “Pray tell, my Captain, who’s trying to steal Kit?”

“I have no idea,” Kent grumbles. He pulls off his practice jersey and makes sure it slaps Jeff in the face.

“Dude…”

“What?”

“I’m paying attention to you, so stop with the _pay attention to me_ moves, okay?”

“Fine,” Kent says. “Anyway, Kit’s been leaving and she always does that, like, she goes on a tour through the neighborhood and then she comes back, and she’s always been doing that so I wasn’t worried at first, but now it always takes her forever to get back.”

“Maybe she’s having an affair.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

Jeff gives him a pat on the back. “No one’s trying to steal your cat, Parse. Let’s go out for froyo later, yeah?”

“Only if you’re paying.”

“Sure, babe, anything for you.”

Bennie lets out a hoot, because _of course_ that’s the bit of their conversation he overheard.

Kent rolls his eyes and turns around so no one will see that his cheeks have turned flaming red. He could probably blame that on racing Nate around the rink after practice, but he doesn’t want anyone to get any ideas.

He doesn’t want _Jeff_ to get any ideas.

*

“Princess, one of these days you’re gonna have to tell me who you’re hanging out with.”

Kit doesn’t answer, of course. She doesn’t care. She lets Kent pick her up and carry her back into the house and when Kent turns on the TV to watch Hell’s Kitchen, she curls up in his lap like she always does.

But that doesn’t change that she was gone for two and a half hours earlier. Kent is not exactly worried. He just wants to know where the hell she’s going.

*

**To: Swoops**

what if she leaves me for someone who’s richer and more beautiful than me

 

**From: Swoops**

tough luck

 

**To: Swoops**

you were supposed to say that there’s no one richer and more beautiful than me in the entire state of nevada

 

**From: Swoops**

sorry but that just won’t be true as long as I live here

*

“Maybe I shouldn’t let her go anywhere anymore,” Kent mutters. “But she gets cranky when she has to stay inside all the time.”

Jeff laughs. “Yeah, she gets that from you.”

“Shut up.”

“Hey, I’m just telling you how it is,” Jeff says, marching into Kent’s house like he lives here once Kent has unlocked the door.

Well, sometimes it feels like Jeff lives here a little bit.

He’s been with the Aces almost as long as Kent has and since Jeff is playing on Kent’s line and is one of the Aces’ most important players, it was pretty clear early on that Jeff wasn’t going anywhere. And they hit it off right from the start.

Kent understands now why he latched on to Jeff like he did back then, why he let him in, why he gave him a chance to be his friend even though he was terrified of losing someone else. Jeff is – and was – about as different from Jack Zimmermann as anyone in the world could be. Jeff has never been afraid of telling Kent what he’s really thinking. He was with the Aces for less than a month, rooming with a slightly grumpy Kent on a roadie, when he said to him, “You can be a real fucking douche, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Kent said, and there was a challenge in it. Maybe he was looking for a fight, because he didn’t exactly like Jeff’s analysis of his character, even though it was pretty spot-on. He doesn’t remember what he was thinking back then. He just remembers that he was angry. All the time. 

Jeff shook his head. “Man, you’re a piece of work.”

Kent pouted for a few minutes, until he eventually said, “Maybe Evans wants to switch.”

“What?”

“Maybe he wants to switch with you. If I’m too much of a douche for your taste.”

Again, it was a challenge, but Jeff only snorted. “Oh, come on, you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Actually, Kent never got rid of Jeff at all.

Jeff was okay with being his friend even when he was a real fucking douche. Jeff was around for his _I’m going out to party to forget about everything else_ phase, and Jeff was around when he had a concussion and he stayed with Kent and baked him fucking cookies like his grandma did when he was a kid and was sad because his peewee team had lost a game, and Jeff was there when Kent got back from that disastrous party at Samwell and he let Kent sniffle into his shirt, no questions asked.

When Kent finally, after months and months of thinking about it, told Jeff that he’s gay, Jeff only said, “That’s okay, me too.”

Jeff has always had his back, all this time, even when Kent let his bad mood get the better of him, even when Kent tried to push him away because he didn’t know how to talk about all the things he was feeling. Jeff was there for him, year after year after year.

So, yeah, Jeff has been around for a while. He has a designated spot on Kent’s couch, he has a favorite blanket, he has a can of his favorite Pringles stored in Kent’s kitchen and Kent even has some of Jeff’s clothes lying around upstairs.

Jeff has a key to Kent’s house. That’s how much he almost lives here.

He comes over a lot, even more now that he’s bought a house one street over. They give each other rides to practice and to games and sometimes Jeff takes Kent home with him and cooks him dinner, and sometimes Kent takes Jeff home with him and he shares his pizza with him. And, on extra special days, he lets Jeff cuddle Kit.

Jeff didn’t even like Kit in the beginning. “So, you got a tiny white ball of fluff and you’re telling me it’s the love of your life?” he said, eyebrows raised as he looked at the tiny white ball of fluff Kent had brought home with him earlier that day.

“She’s soft and she purrs when you hold her,” Kent said and picked her up. “Here, take her.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“She’s a good kitty, Swoops.”

Jeff still refused to make friends with Kit that day. For a while there, Kit was Satan’s Pet in Jeff’s eyes, because she scratched him. Once. And just a little.

And then Jeff came over the week he broke his hand and he was so miserable that even Kent, who’d known him for years, didn’t know how to cheer him up. Kent ordered food for him and put on his favorite movie, but Jeff still looked like he’d rather walk out into the desert and become a cactus than sit on Kent’s couch with a broken hand. 

And then Kit came along, because Kit can tell when people are sad – she had a lot of practice, because she lives with Kent – and curled up on Jeff’s stomach.

“What is she doing?” Jeff asked, sounding mildly anxious.

“Congrats, you’re her new pillow,” Kent said.

Jeff made a face.

“If you don’t want her, just give her a nudge, she’ll go. But gently, yeah? Don’t shove her. She’s just trying to be nice.”

Jeff gave him a look like he’d lost it, which he still does a lot when Kent talks about Kit like she’s a real person, and then, tentatively, scratched her behind the ears. “Whatever, she can stay as long as she doesn’t try to eat me.”

She didn’t try to eat him and they’ve been friends ever since. Usually, when Jeff is here, Kit will go to him for cuddles, because apparently Jeff’s stomach is an excellent pillow.

It is. Kent knows it is. He’s fallen asleep on Jeff many, many times. And he’s also come to regret it many, many times.

Right, so, the thing with Jeff?

It’s not a _thing_ , except that it is. They made out once, last New Year’s Eve in a hotel room in Toronto. They pulled a _What happens in Canada stays in Canada_ kind of thing afterwards. They’re good at that. They live in Vegas after all.

Nothing’s changed, at least not in such a way that anyone would notice.

But Kent notices. He notices how much he wants to be close to Jeff. This morning at practice, he watched a drop of sweat roll down the side of Jeff’s face and for some reason that made him want to kiss Jeff’s jaw. It made him want to grab Jeff by his Las Vegas Aces shirt, drag him far, far away from the rest of the team, push him against a wall and have his merry way with him.

Maybe Kent could deal with it if it was only that, but it’s really not only that. He wants to run his fingers through Jeff’s hair and cuddle him on the couch and be as close to him as humanly possible and he doesn’t even care if they’re wearing clothes or not. That’s what it’s come to. He’s imagining all kinds of sappy things and he can’t turn it off.

He hates these feelings. He’d rather hand them back, like, _Thanks, but I don’t want them._

He’d rather go back to sleeping with random guys, except when he was at the height of his _sleeping with random guys_ phase, he also lay awake thinking about Jack Zimmermann at night and he’d also rather not go back to _that_. He’s moved on in more ways than one. He’s moved on from loving Jack, and from wanting him back in his bed, and even from wanting him back on his line.

Kent doesn’t want to be in love with anyone right now, but Not Being In Love With Jeff Troy currently isn’t on the menu.

He’s dealing with it by not dealing with it.

Jeff grabs himself a bottle of water from the fridge, picks up Kit and heads to the living room, which is where he’ll stay for the remainder of the evening, or even the night, depending on whether or not Jeff feels like going home later. Kent is going to sit next to him, stuff popcorn into his mouth and pretend that he doesn’t want to kiss him. Or rip all his clothes of. Or, even worse, curl up next to him, get a blanket, and fall asleep like that.

He won’t even think about any of those things.

It’s as easy as that.

*

“Seriously, we need to have a talk about where you keep going.”

Kit meows.

Kent frowns at her as she walks around him in a circle. “Do you have a boyfriend?”

She meows again, her tail swishing.

“A girlfriend?” Kent goes on.

Jeff always says that he’s a weirdo because he has actual conversations with his cat – “She’s a cat, Parse, she has no idea what you’re saying.”

“But she always agrees with me,” Kent keeps telling him.

Only now he’d rather have some real answers. It’s just strange, ’s all. And, okay, maybe he’s also a little scared that one day she won’t come back after all. Kit’s the only family he has in Vegas.

He also has his team, but they all have their own lives and their own families, girlfriends and wives and children. Jeff is the only other guy on the team who’s not– Honestly, there’s no reason to talk around it, Jeff is gay and he won’t even pretend that he’s dating any girls

Kent used to pretend. He thought he had to, so people wouldn’t talk, but he’s given up on that, because it just made him more miserable. It reminded him of what he couldn’t have. His rewards in the end were an ever-lasting rumor that Taylor Swift broke up with him and then wrote a scathing song about him, and a running gag about him being too picky for his own good and loving no one more than he loves himself.

Which is a lie, because he definitely loves Kit at least as much as he loves himself.

Anyway, Jeff lives in his house on his own and sometimes he lets guys from the farm team stay with him, because a few years ago he was one of those guys, but other than that it’s just him. Sometimes, when they’re on the road, Jeff sneaks away and returns right before curfew, but he never talks about it. Although now that Kent thinks about it, it’s been a while since Jeff last slipped into their hotel room with a sheepish smile on his face.

They’ve been rooming together since the dawn of time, and Kent hates that he knows Jeff’s just-got-laid face, but Kent wouldn’t want his own room. He’d rather have Jeff snoring in the bed next to his. He’d rather sit next to Jeff and watch bad movies when they have an evening off. He’d rather not be alone with his thoughts.

Maybe he also enjoys the view of Jeff wandering about in his boxers, but that’s only an issue that has come up lately. That’s actually a reason to not share a room with Jeff right there.

Sometimes Kent wants to ask him if he still thinks about New Year’s Eve. He wants to ask him if he remembers how it felt when they kissed, if he remembers that sigh he let out, like he was giving in.

Kent remembers.

And he wants to ask Jeff to give in again, but that’s not something you can ask of your liney. Or your best friend.

So he remembers it, over and over again. He remembers Jeff’s lips on his, a little chapped, fingers tangled in his hair, fingers grasping at his thigh to keep him close. He remembers touching Jeff, hands eager to explore, dying to be close to someone, only now he’s not sure if maybe he wanted to be close to Jeff all along, if he didn’t want it to be just anyone, but really only Jeff.

He also wonders why it had to be another teammate. Technically he should have known better, he shouldn’t have let Jeff kiss him in the first place, but he wanted it and he was, and is, a bit of a selfish asshole.

But Jeff is not Jack Zimmermann.

Jeff is not Jack Zimmermann and that might just be a game-changer.

*

“I just wanna know what she’s doing when she’s not home.”

“Parse, you seriously need to chill the fuck out,” Jeff says. “Or you could hire a private cat detective.”

They’re sitting on Jeff’s bed in a hotel in New York. The game’s tomorrow evening and some of the guys went out for dinner tonight, but Kent and Jeff opted for room service and a bad movie. It’s cold and they’ve both stuck their feet under the covers. Jeff is pleasantly warm next to him and Kent’s doing what he can to keep himself from scooting closer.

Kent pokes him with the remote instead. “Have I ever told you how not-helpful you are?”

“No, but you had no reason to considering all of your goals that I assisted on recently. And all the goals I scored myself. Also, I think the word you were looking for is _unhelpful_.”

“Fuck off,” Kent grumbles.

“Listen, I’m sure Kit still loves you.”

Kent sighs, because of course Kit still loves him. “That’s not the point.”

“Really? I thought the point was that you’re feeling rejected. By your cat. But do correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Wow, I’m so glad I still have you to hit me with the cold hard truth.”

“I know you are,” Jeff says sweetly and puts an arm around him.

Kent pretends to be mightily offended, but he still sinks against Jeff, inch by inch, until he’s pretty much plastered against him. In Jeff’s bed. Closing his eyes and falling asleep cuddled up to Jeff seems highly tempting to Kent at the moment.

He keeps his eyes open.

He’s better than this, even though Jeff is absent-mindedly trailing his fingers up and down Kent’s upper arm right now and he’s making it extra hard for Kent not to do something monumentally stupid.

Kent fakes a yawn and wiggles a bit. “I should go to bed.”

“Yeah, you have to get up early and draw up a plan to spy on your cat.”

“Seriously? I put up with your snoring for these subpar chirps?”

“Shush,” Jeff says and squeezes his shoulder. “You love my subpar chirps.”

Kent really kind of does. He pats Jeff’s chest. Jeff can have this one victory. Kent isn’t contractually obliged to always act like he doesn’t take his friendships seriously, sometimes he can let on that he actually cares. Honestly, Jeff is one of the most important people in his life, on and off the ice. Jeff has met his family, and Kent lets Jeff drive his car, and he brought Jeff along when Alicia and Bob invited him over for dinner when the Aces were in Montreal last November.

He told Jeff all the secrets that were his to share and he knows they’re safe with him.

No one’s ever made him feel safer than Jeff does.

“I’m not gonna carry you over there, you know that, right?” Jeff says.

“Hmm, I could just stay here.”

“Fine, I’ll snore right into your ear, then.”

“Great,” Kent says and pulls the sheets up to his chin.

Jeff snorts and makes himself comfortable.

Really, Kent can’t sleep here.

He shouldn’t be thrown off by how little Jeff minds. Jeff isn’t kicking him out of his bed because he knows that Kent will move his ass eventually, but the part of Kent that has a Bachelor’s Degree in Wishful Thinking briefly considers that Jeff might want him to stay.

His thoughts also travel back to Canada. They left that entire night in Toronto, but Kent hasn’t forgotten that they fell asleep next to each other, curled around each other under the covers. Kent just wants to feel like that again. He wants everything to feel that right again, like everything had fallen into place and he was finally where he was supposed to be.

Jeff turns off the TV and the lamp next to his bed, leaving them in total darkness.

“Thanks a lot, Jeffrey.”

“Night, Parse,” Jeff only says and lets his arm drop right across Kent.

Kent groans and wiggles out from under Jeff’s arm, Jeff laughing quietly all the while as Kent stumbles out of his bed, nearly trips over Jeff’s shoes and finally faceplants on his own bed, only to realize that he really needs to go to the bathroom.

“I hate everything,” Kent mumbles into his pillow.

*

“Let me drive,” Jeff says and gently plucks the keys out of Kent’s hand.

Kent lets him, because he’s exhausted, and sad, and wants to sleep for about a week, and, oh, did he mention he was sad?

The Schooners almost swept them in the first round of the playoffs. The Aces managed to win one game on home ice, but the Schooners still wiped the ice with them in Seattle, so this round was over for them after Game 5.

The flight home to Vegas was quiet. They all trudged off the plane, patting each other on the back before they went their separate ways. Kent is going to host a cookout for all of them, like he always does after the end of the season, but none of them feel much like partying right about now. He tried to cheer his guys up at least a little bit, because they fought hard, and they did what they could, and next year would be their year, but it didn’t do much good.

Kent is glad that Jeff is driving him home. The closest they came to winning another Cup was two years ago when they made it to the finals. Kent knows they can do it, this group of guys is dedicated and hard-working, and he has no idea what went wrong for them this year. Too many mistakes, probably. Too many little slip-ups that amounted to one defeat after another.

Kent is already scared of what’s going to happen to the team. In September, there’ll be different guys on the roster, it’s the same thing every year. The question is how many guys will be leaving, or will be traded, or will retire.

He knows that he is staying. He knows that Jeff is staying. The two of them together are the Aces’ most important asset. They can put up good numbers without each other when one of them is out of the lineup for some reason, but together they’re a scoring machine. Still, even though his best friend isn’t going anywhere, Kent will always feel a bit of a sad twinge in the pit of his stomach when one of his guys gets traded.

Jeff pulls into their neighborhood way too soon. Kent wouldn’t mind driving around with Jeff for a little while longer, but Jeff most likely wants to take a nap and just relax for the rest of the day before they have to go back to the rink for locker room clear-out tomorrow.

Kent glances over at Jeff, who looks about as miserable as Kent feels.

“Wanna come to my place?” Kent asks. He’s not even sure if he’s asking because he doesn’t want to be alone or because he thinks that Jeff might like having some company. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

Jeff lets out a soft sigh, and nods, and pulls into Kent’s street. Jeff ends up crashing on the couch that night.

Kent sleeps on the other side of the couch, Kit curled up between their heads.

*

**From: Swoops**

you will not believe this

 

**To: Swoops**

?????

 

**From: Swoops**

[Image]

*

“She’s _there_?” Kent asks, completely incredulous. He dropped his phone when Jeff sent him a picture of Kit, sleeping in a patch of sunlight on his patio. Kent almost facetimed Jeff so he could show him some live footage of his own beloved cat betraying him like this. In the end he just called him, because otherwise Jeff would have chirped him about it for years.

“Yep, she’s here” Jeff says, sounding way too amused for Kent’s liking. “Looks like your princess really likes my patio furniture.”

“What the _fuck_.”

Kit’s been hanging out at Jeff’s place all this time. It makes sense, because even though Jeff lives in a different street, their backyards are so close that Kent would only have to climb over two fences to get to Jeff’s. Which he obviously won’t do, because he doesn’t want Priya bugging him, like, “Kent, what did I tell you about getting arrested for trespassing?”

And the right answer would be something like, “To not… do that?”

Well, Priya never actually talked to him about getting arrested for trespassing, but there were some talks about underage drinking and about the things she doesn’t ever want to see on his Twitter and the appropriate behavior when talking to the media. Kent would never risk making Priya mad. He was the cause of some mild exasperation in the past, but she’s never yelled at him. He’d like to keep it that way.

“I can’t believe you’re trying to steal my cat,” Kent says.

“I’m not, I didn’t even know that she’s been coming here.”

“Tell her to go home.”

“Hey, Kitty,” Jeff says. “Your dad wants you to go home, it’s past your curfew… Aw, she’s purring.”

“You _are_ stealing my cat.”

“I’m not, I just wanted to say hello,” Jeff mumbles. “Anyway, she was just taking a nap, she’ll probably come back soon enough.”

Kent huffs. Jeff is absolutely right, of course, and Kent is actually glad that he finally knows where she’s been going, but still. She can take a nap _here_. He knows exactly what’s so appealing about Jeff’s patio, though. It’s that patch of sunlight. And that pillow she’s sleeping on. Kent’s backyard is mostly doused in shadows at this time of day.

“Don’t be such a baby,” Jeff says. “She’s fine.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Kent says.

The photo of Kit sleeping on Jeff’s patio is on Instagram two minutes after they’ve hung up the phone and Jeff has even tagged Kent in the picture. Kent tries not to be jealous, because that’d be fucking ridiculous, so he likes the picture and posts one of Kit when she’s back home and curled up on his chest while Kent is watching the Schooners lose Game 1 of the second round that night.

It feels like a consolation prize. Everyone’s chirping him about his cat hanging out with Jeff and now he’s extra grumpy.

*

**From: Swoops**

stop sulking

 

**To: Swoops**

i’m not

 

**From: Swoops**

yeah you are

 

Yeah, he is.

*

“Is she there again?”

Jeff groans. Kent probably woke him up from a nap. “You’re calling me because you want me to keep tabs on your cat?” Jeff asks.

“Just check for me,” Kent says. “Please.”

“Aw, but only because you said please…” Jeff is quiet for a moment and Kent can hear his footsteps on the tiled floor, can hear the backdoor sliding open, can hear Jeff’s soft laugh. “Yep, she’s here.”

Kent sighs. Of course she is. He’s bored and he can’t even post pictures of Kit on Instagram because she’s not around.

“I’m coming over,” Kent says.

Jeff doesn’t even question it. He’s used to Kent inviting himself over. “I’ll make an extra burger for you,” Jeff says.

“How about _two_ extra burgers?” Kent asks. It’s too bad that Jeff can’t see him batting his eyelashes.

“I’ll see you in five,” Jeff replies. “I’ll keep an eye on your cat.”

Kent drives over to Jeff’s house and brings his cat carrier so he can take Kit home later on. Who knows for how long he’ll be staying at Jeff’s. It’s just how it is during the off-season, they hang out at each other’s houses and sometimes they stay a little longer than originally planned.

He rings the doorbell and half a minute later he wishes he’d just stayed at home.

Jeff opens the door for him, which in itself is a perfectly normal thing to happen, except he’s only wearing sunglasses and his stupid flowery swimming trunks and he’s carrying Kit and he just looks too fucking good and it’s not fair that he’s being subjected to this. Actually, he subjected himself to this, but whatever.

Jeff grins and gives Kit a pat. “I think I’m keeping her.”

“Don’t you dare,” Kent says and shuffles into Jeff’s house.

It’s pleasantly cool inside, but Jeff nudges him down the hall and into the living room, through the backdoor and out onto the patio. He sets Kit down on a chair and wanders over to the grill and Kent tries not to stare at his back too much, but Jeff has very broad, very distracting shoulders.

Kit meows at him. She’s clearly mocking him because he’s so embarrassingly transparent.

“Shh,” Kent says and scratches her chin. “I know I’m a lost cause.”

“What did you say?” Jeff asks.

“Nothing.”

“Ah, talking to the cat again.”

While he’s busy rolling his eyes at Jeff, Kit scurries away and lies down on her pillow, now in a spot in the shade. Kent shakes his head at her and sits down on one of the lounge chairs over by the grill.

Kent gives Jeff’s leg a poke with his toes and nods at Kit when Jeff turns around. “This pillow has taken my cat from me.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m serious, look at her, she loves that pillow more than anything else in the world. She loves it more than she loves _me_.”

Jeff shakes his head and starts putting burger patties on the grill. “She doesn’t even come here every day, she just hangs out here every now and then.”

“That’s true but irrelevant.”

Jeff gives him the _I know that there’s no reasoning with you, so why do I even try_ look and turns his attention back to the grill.

“Jeff. Jeffrey. Swoops…”

“Yes, Kenneth?”

“Excuse you…”

“You called me Jeffrey first,” Jeff says and points his spatula at Kent.

“Yeah, but Jeffrey is your actual name, _Kenneth_ was a three a.m. alcohol-fueled mistake.”

“Whatever you say, Kentucky.”

“Fuck you.”

“Hey, I’m sharing my burgers with you,” Jeff says. “Be nice.”

“Yeah, about that, were you just gonna make half a dozen burgers for yourself or…?”

“Nah, I just know that you have this tendency to show up uninvited and eat all my food, so I like to be prepared.”

Kent flips him off in reply.

It’s hot for early May so they eat with their legs dangling into the pool. Kent snaps a photo of them for Instagram because the masses so love to be entertained by pictures of them and who is he to deprive his followers of the sight of a shirtless Jeff Troy.

The sun starts to set and Jeff reads the comments of their teammates to Kent. Half of them are complaining that they weren’t invited, like they didn’t just have a huge party at Kent’s place a couple of days ago. He’ll invite them all over again soon anyway. It’s still two months until his birthday, though, so he’ll have to come up with some other reason to throw a party next week.

Kent sighs and lets his head fall against Jeff’s shoulder.

“What?” Jeff asks, his tone gentle.

“The summer’s too long,” Kent says quietly. They should still be playing. Jeff asked him if he wanted to watch one of the Round 2 games earlier, but Kent only shook his head. It still stings.

Jeff hums, his fingers slowly running up and down Kent’s spine. “We all did what we could.”

“I know.”

Jeff’s fingers still, but he doesn’t let go of Kent.

Kent wants to kiss him so badly. He could just tilt his head up and pull Jeff in and kiss him like he kissed him on New Year’s Eve, like it’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Maybe it’s the heat – it’s not even _that_ hot – but Kent, for some reason, thinks it’s a good idea to reach out and put his hand on Jeff’s thigh, and he can hear Jeff let out a surprised puff of breath, and, honestly, what the hell is he doing here?

Kent awkwardly pats Jeff’s thigh and clears his throat. “I should get Kit home.”

“Right,” Jeff says.

“Thanks for the burgers…” Kent scrambles to his feet and nearly shoves his empty plate into the pool in the process. He catches it and hands it to Jeff. “I’ll, uh–”

Jeff takes it, eyebrows knit together.

Sometimes Kent hates that Jeff knows him so well. He has him all figured out, but he also knows when to keep his mouth shut, so Jeff only says, “I’ll walk you to the door.”

Kent coaxes Kit off her favorite pillow and into the carrier he brought and makes for his car. He doesn’t miss the look Jeff gives him before he walks out the door. Jeff knows what almost happened just now. And he knows that Kent is running away from it. And he doesn’t say a word, because he’s Jeff, and he knows that Kent can’t deal with this right now, so he lets him go with a quiet, “Let’s hang out soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kent says.

He has no doubt at all that he’ll be back at Jeff’s tomorrow. Or that Jeff will come ‘round with a pizza. But before that happens, Kent should probably figure out what the fuck he wants.

*

Kent groans when his doorbell rings. It’s Sunday afternoon and he went out drinking with Jeff, Sunny and Bennie last night. This morning, he got up, took a shower, ate all the cold takeout he had left in his fridge, and went back to sleep. Around noon he ordered pizza, ate one and a half slices and once again went back to sleep.

And now someone is ringing his doorbell.

Kit meows at him. _Get a move on_.

“Ugh.”

Kent crawls off the couch and opens the door, ready to glare.

It’s Jeff, so he keeps the glaring to a minimum. Jeff looks like he always does, his Aces shirt clinging to his chest, a Clippers hat on his head. He doesn’t even look a little bit hungover, which really isn’t fair.

Kent does a bit of a double-take at the huge bag Jeff is carrying. “What’s up?” he says.

Jeff holds up the bag. “Happy birthday.”

Okay, so, Kent is hungover, no doubt about it, but he’s not _that_ hungover. “It’s not my birthday.”

“When you were drunk last night you told at least three people that it’s your birthday. Not that any of them believed you, but hey… Just take it.”

Kent takes the bag from Jeff and looks inside. It’s the pillow. The pillow from Jeff’s patio, and it’s still covered in cat hair. “What the hell?”

Jeff smirks. “Yeah, so, funny story… When you were drunk last night, you said–”

“Can you please stop starting sentences like that, I don’t like it. Why do you even remember all the embarrassing shit I said last night?”

“Because I stopped drinking after a couple of beers.”

“Why would you do something like that?”

“I love not feeling like I’m about to die,” Jeff says dryly.

“Yeah, okay, makes sense.” Kent nods down the hall. “Come in? I have some leftover pizza from lunch if you want any.”

Jeff steps inside, still smirking.

“Right, so what did I say that made you bring me this?” Kent asks and holds up the pillow. Jeff is clearly dying to tell him this story.

“Yeah, so, you were drunk–”

“No shit.”

“–and you were complaining about Kit not loving you anymore and–”

“You can stop right there, I remember it now.”

He doesn’t only remember complaining about Kit not loving him anymore and telling Jeff he should give him the pillow, “Because it’s my fake birthday, Swoops.” He also remembers sitting in a sticky booth with Jeff, mumbling into Jeff’s ear, his arm slung around him and– That’s it. He’s pretty sure he didn’t do anything he should be regretting right now, but still. He talked Jeff into surrendering this stupid pillow.

“But, dude, seriously, you don’t have to give this to me.”

“I know that I don’t _have to_ ,” Jeff says.

“Yeah, but–”

“It’s just a pillow, Parse.”

Instead of saying thank you, which would be the reasonable thing to do, Kent kisses him. One second he’s trying to figure out why Jeff is doing this and the next he’s already stepped closer, dropped the pillow and wrapped his arms around him.

It feels exactly as it felt on New Year’s Eve. Like this is exactly where he’s supposed to be. He’s not surprised when Jeff kisses him back, because he’s kissed him back before, and he’s not surprised by how much he wants this, because he’s wanted it all along. Maybe this isn’t the right thing to do, because he’s Jeff’s captain, because he’s his best friend, but he doesn’t want to keep pretending. He needs Jeff to know that.

Kent pulls away, not far, his hands still on Jeff’s side, and Jeff smiles and trails a finger down the side of Kent’s face. Kent almost forgets that he was about to say something.

He tugs at Jeff’s shirt. “I don’t wanna keep pretending that Toronto didn’t happen.”

“I figured,” Jeff says, his smile growing broader.

Kent stands on his tiptoes to kiss Jeff again, but he stops half an inch away from Jeff’s lips. “This is okay, right?” Kent asks. He wants to be sure, he just needs Jeff to say it.

“Yeah, of course it’s okay, I… I would have said something earlier.” Jeff brushes Kent’s hair out of his face only for it all to flop right back. “I just didn’t want to push you, because you’re…”

“Just say it.”

“Sometimes you’re hard to read.”

Okay, Kent wasn’t expecting that one. In fact, he was pretty sure that he was the most transparent person on the planet and that everyone who took one look at him in the street saw that he’s completely, ridiculously in love with Jeff Troy.

“I’m sorry,” Kent says, because he didn’t tell Jeff the truth, and he kept him waiting. Kent hugs him and holds on, because Toronto happened and this just happened too and it’s going to happen again and again.

“Hey, Parse,” Jeff whispers.

“Hm?”

“Look at Kit.”

Kent looks over his shoulder and finds Kit lying on the pillow that he dropped in the middle of the hallway. She’s looking up at them, tail swishing, perfectly content.

“Guess she won’t go wandering about anymore now, huh?” Jeff says.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He kisses Jeff’s cheek. “Thanks for the pillow, though.”

“You can have every single pillow I own if this is what I get in return, I don’t even care.”

Kent laughs, and grabs Jeff’s shirt, and pulls him in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely based on my mom's neighbor's cat who likes to come over, sleep on our patio furniture for two hours and then leaves again. 
> 
> I'm @zimmermaenner on tumblr if you wanna drop by!
> 
> I'll be very happy about any and all kudos and comments :)


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